Dark Chocolate
by lamentomori
Summary: Roman won the Rumble, but like Dark Chocolate, it's bittersweet. Dean has a plan to bring a little sweetness to his other half. Warnings: Slash (Roman Reigns/Dean Ambrose), Smut, Fluffy Feels, Chocolate.


_Warnings: Slash (Roman Reigns/Dean Ambrose), Smut, Fluffy Feels, Chocolate. _

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><p>"You okay?" It's a soft question with a thousand meanings, and Dean has no doubt that the man he asked it to knows every single meaning behind those two words.<p>

"I'm great. I got to point at a sign, and everything." Roman seems _miserable_, and Dean can't say he blames him. The crowd were less than warm to his victory, less than warm to anything that wasn't Bryan. From the moment Bryan was ejected from the match, it was all downhill. Creative, but mostly Vince, have a lot to answer for. The smarks are rebelling. They should have known better than to book the match the way they did, but Vince knows best, and even when he doesn't he's the one in charge of the company. What Vince wants Vince gets, and what Vince wants is _very_ different to what the most vocal parts of the audience want. Roman doesn't deserve the hate that's already being piled on him. _He's not ready_, _he doesn't deserve it_, _it was Bryan's year_. Familiar complaints, a familiar story. Last year they'd booed the shit out of Batista, and this year they boo the shit out of Roman, when last year he'd been cheered. Granted Dean realises that last year Roman had been the dark horse, the sign that change might be coming. This year they all see him as the handpicked wonder boy made to look really, really strong, and riding to victory on the whims, and adoration, of Vince. It's galling that Roman is getting all the hate, but if McMahon were to show his face, they'd all be cheering and bowing to him. He's the guy who decided to push Roman to the moon, but he gets none of the vitriol. Age, and _grapefruits_ earn you a fond place in the _smarks_' hearts.

"Ro... C'mon. Let's get the fuck outta here." Dean grabs Roman's bags, and completely without arguing Roman trails along behind him, a heavy sullen silence hanging over him. This should be a night of celebration, but Dean had suspected, _everyone_ suspected, that anyone other than Bryan winning would be met with disappointment at best. This whole mess was unavoidable, at least with the way Vince had decided to book the match. It had to be insulting to the smarks that Vince claims to listen to the fans so much, because they all chant, and scream what they want, but it never materialises. They cheer for the guys they love, the guys they mourn, and they don't get what they want, instead they get the vision of Vinnie Mac, and what he thinks is a good idea.

"I'm gonna shower." It's the first thing Roman's said since they left the arena, and his tone is low and despondent. It's not what Dean had wanted, but it is what he'd expected. There's cheering up to be done, and he has the tools to do just that. He strips his clothes off quickly, and slips into the bathroom once he's got the bedroom all set up, everything he needs close at hand.

"Hey... Got room for a little'un?" Dean chuckles, and Roman pulls the shower curtain back just enough for Dean to get in beside him. There's a brief moment where Roman does nothing, but it's only brief, and then Dean is wrapped up in his arms. Staying still is always hard for Dean, _always_, but he manages it for Roman, manages to give him stillness, which is a lot more than most people can expect from Dean. "Hey, you alright?" Roman doesn't answer, doesn't relent in his embrace, doesn't let Dean go. "Pass me the shampoo." The little bottle is handed to Dean as he is finally released from Roman's embrace.

"You're showering with me?" He asks, and Dean nods.

"Turn round." Roman obliges Dean with little argument, letting Dean wash his hair quickly. Dean snags the conditioner bottle, and slicks it through Roman's long, black mane. "Get clean." Dean mutters, quickly tending to himself, washing his hair and body quickly. Once he's satisfied he's clean enough, he takes over cleaning Roman, being far more thorough with him, paying far more attention to making sure every inch of Roman's body's is spotlessly clean. Once he's finished, Roman is wearing an oddly gently smile on his lips, and an equally gentle look in his eyes.

"Thank you." His voice is low and deep, almost lost in the rushing of the shower's water. His hands cup Dean's face, cradling it with more care than Dean's ever been shown in his life. "Thank you." Roman repeats, and kisses him. It's one of those slow, passion heavy kisses that have Dean grinding up against Roman's firm thigh, one of those kisses that leaves him panting for breath and feeling _ravaged_.

"You're welcome." Dean switches the shower off, and hands Roman a towel that he wraps around his waist. Dean dries himself off quickly, tossing his used towel on the sink counter, grinning at Roman. "Here, put this on." Dean hands Roman the blindfold he'd taken to the bathroom with him, and Roman stares at him blankly, before taking the blindfold from him, confused indulgence on his face.

"You ain't got a surprise party out there, do you? I ain't dressed for one of those." Roman drops the towel that's around his waist as he secures the blindfold over his eyes.

"Damn right, I got a party planned, and you fit the dress code just fine." Dean slinks up to him, and tugs Roman down for a fierce, almost _biting_ kiss. "Let's go." He smacks Roman's ass, and leads Roman by the hand into the bedroom, guiding him to lie down in the middle of the bed, on top of the spare sheet Dean had laid out, just in case he got a little _messy_.

"Something smells good." Roman mutters, and Dean laughs at him, taking the little pot of warm melted chocolate over to the bed. Dean dips his fingers in the little pot of liquid chocolate, and swipes them over Roman's chest, above the blindfold, Roman's eyebrows twitch, a low moan escaping him. "The fuck is that?" His voice is a deep rumble, and Dean smirks to himself, licking a finger.

"What you think it is?" Dean chuckles, and Roman sighs, his fingers twitching. He's considering taking the blindfold off, Dean can tell, so he decides to distract Roman to keep his game up. "You wanna taste? It's good." Dean dips a finger in the little pot of melted chocolate, sucking it loudly, and taking it from his mouth with a loud pop.

"Gimme a little." Roman laughs, and Dean feels a burst of happiness. It's the first genuinely happy sound he's heard from Roman since he won the Rumble. That alone should have made him happy, but for all Roman paints himself as being unaffected by the fans, their opinion matters to him. He bases his worth off what they think far too much. He might seem like a cool, unflappable kind of man, but barely beneath that veneer, there's a sweet, sensitive soul that needs nurturing and caring for, beneath that veneer Roman _needs_ to be liked. Dean likes him more than enough, but as a face, it's his job to be liked by the crowd. Only with his booking, with the way Vince is trying to _force_ him down the throats of the audience, it's inevitable that it'll backfire with the smarks. Those people who know what they want, and are horribly vocal about it. If it were Dean, he'd let them boo, he'd play up to it, he'd demand a heel turn or something, but Roman will fret, in that sweet way that he has, and take all the blame on himself. This isn't his fault, but Dean knows better than to try and tell Roman that. It's pointless to try and argue with what Roman's decided is the truth. All Dean can do is be supportive, which was at first was a daunting task. Dean by nature isn't _supportive_, he's an unstable influence, but Roman has balanced that out in him to the point where Dean is actually comfortable in offering support. He swipes a little of the chocolate over Roman's lips, before lapping at the chocolate he'd smeared over Roman's chest. "Hmm, tastes good. C'mere, lemme share it with you." Roman laughs, and Dean abandons licking at the chocolate in favour of kissing Roman. His fingers are busy though, dipping into the little pot once more, and drawing a little trail down to Roman's belly button. Dean breaks the kiss, and laps at the trail of chocolate, one hand wrapping around Roman's cock. He strokes firmly, getting Roman hard with practiced ease. Dean sits back, admiring his handiwork, and dips a finger into the chocolate once more. He sucks it clean, watching Roman's cock twitch at the sounds of his sucking.

"Want me to blow you, Ro?" Dean laughs, and Roman snorts, his fingers twitching once more. "I'll take that as a yes." Dean dips his finger again, and draws a stripe of chocolate up the underside of Roman's cock, licking it clean quickly. The combination of Roman and chocolate is _addictive_, and Dean is never one to resist an addiction. He reapplies more chocolate, and laps it from Roman's dick more times that he can count, with every time, Roman seems more and more desperate, his hips bucking more, his fingers restless on the bed.

"Hey... C'mere... Ride me." Roman's fingers tangle in Dean's hair, drawing him up for a kiss. A chocolate tinged, messy kiss, one that accidentally leaves chocolate finger marks on Roman's face where Dean cupped it. "You all prepped?" Dean laughs at Roman's assumption, and the accuracy of it. He had multitasked; his hole is lubed, loosened, and ready for Roman to take him.

"How well you know me." Dean laughs, straddling Roman's thighs, and lining his cock up with his prepped hole, sinking down it at a steady pace. Roman is _close_, and Dean wants to enjoy the ride before the grand finale. He moves methodically, but Roman's hips are bucking up every so often, trying to encourage Dean to move faster, trying to throw him off his game.

"I'm close, c'mon." Roman pants, and Dean laughs at him, his hand lazily stroking his own cock.

"I _know_." Dean grins, and Roman's fist thumps off the bed. "I know just how close you are, and you're not gonna _pop_ till I do." Dean makes sure to make the word _pop_ do just that, laughing once more when Roman's hand makes a flailing grab for his cock.

"You wanna get off first, Dean? I can do that. I'm good with my hands." Roman laughs, and Dean bites his lip to keep back a moan. Roman gives incredibly good handjobs. His big palms, his thick strong fingers, and most importantly, he's practiced on Dean _many_ times, they all conspire to make the best handjobs Dean's ever had. It's almost embarrassing how quickly Roman can get Dean off, but Dean has the presence of mind to remember his original plan, and he rides Roman as best he can, giving up doing anything but holding on, when Roman brings him off, as once Dean's come, Roman grabs his hips, and starts pounding up into him. The only sounds are Dean's soft moaning, Roman's heavy pants, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Roman comes with a deep groan that has Dean's spent cock gamely twitching, but it's not going to happen. The match and the events of the night have taken their toll. Dean's tired, too tied for round two. He sits up, moaning as the movement shifts Roman's cock as it lies still inside Dean's ass. He reaches down, and removes the blindfold from Roman's eyes, watching him blink owlishly in the dim room. Dean knows that there's a grin of mildly exhausted contentment on his face, but he way Roman looks at him makes him feel even more contented, even more sated, and calm. The calmness had at first been terrifying, but now Dean _craves_ it.

"Hey?" Dean smiles down at him, Roman looks soft and content, a smile on his lips, a sweetly sated smile that fills Dean with pride at being the cause of it.

"Hello." Roman chuckles, and Dean grins at him. "I'm tired, gonna need to get to sleep. We've a _big_ day ahead." Roman's smile gets bigger, and Dean grins back at him. He lifts himself from Roman's cock, moaning softly as it eases from his ass, and settles down on the bed by Roman, lying perfectly still. Just after sex is one of those few times Dean is still voluntarily, in the warm afterglow of good sex even Dean's chaotic mind takes a rest for a few moments.

"I'm proud of you." Dean mutters softly, and Roman snorts, not moving from where he's lying on his back, his hands under his head. The smile that had been on his lips dies a slow, painful death, leaving him looking miserably up at the ceiling.

"Sure, plenty to be proud of in being booed outta the building." Roman laughs sardonically, and turns to Dean. "Even Rocky got booed cause of me."

"He, and more importantly, _you_ got booed because of bad booking. Creative are assholes, we both know this." Dean moves closer, leaning propped up on his elbow, spotting something amiss with Roman's face. He leans over and licks a little remnant of chocolate from Roman's cheek. Once he's sure he's gotten it all he leans back, but if he missed a spot, they can always shower again the morning. "Want me to go _talk_ to them?" He laughs, and Roman sighs, but a slowly a smile spreads over his lips once more.

"Nah... It's alright." His hand snags the back of Dean's neck, and pulls him down for a kiss. "I'm sure Creative will work out some way to get Bryan in this match. They'll fix it somehow, and you're getting big enough pops for us both." He chuckles, and Dean snorts, settling down to sleep.

"You'll get your pop, don't worry." Dean murmurs, and Roman softly, his lips against Dean's hair.

"I don't care if they pop for me, all I need is you popping." He chuckles, and Dean kisses his chest with a smile. Roman sounds happier, and for Dean that's all he needs.

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><p><strong>littleone1389 <strong>_I hope it cheers you up my dear!_

_Did Roman deserve the hate he got last night? No... Will it stop? No... Will Bryan somehow be shoehorned into the Mania Main Event again? Quite possibly. _

**_This is my first Ambreigns... How did I do? Lemme know by leaving a review. _**


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